


Are You There, John?  It's Me, Robin

by TheWyldeWynd



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Agressively Quasi-Religious Flirting, And Etiquette, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Flirting, Dom/sub Undertones, Flirting, Gen, John This is Not How Flirting Works, Mind Games, Of Dubious Intent, Teasing, The Deputy Does What She Wants, The Deputy Makes Questionable Life Choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 00:20:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15107828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWyldeWynd/pseuds/TheWyldeWynd
Summary: If there is one lesson to be learned from this, it is that John's radio broadcasts areverycounterproductive if he's really trying to lead peopleawayfrom sin, Sharky should not be allowed to theorize aloud, and The Deputy should have her own radio privaleges revokedimmediately.Or, The Deputy finally responds to one of John's on-air speeches and things get weird.





	Are You There, John?  It's Me, Robin

**Author's Note:**

> _Basically, this is me indulging my FemDep - dubiously stable wildchild Robin Baird - by letting her troll John Seed, before I get back to doing horrible things to her in the other stories I'm working on. I regret none of what is about to happen. It is insanity, and a little bit trash, and it makes me giggle._
> 
> _Rating/Warnings for: Innuendo coming out the endo (I'm not sorry for that either), adult-type language, and the terrible flirting of two terrible people. Also... yeah, probably some warning for threats of torture and violence. I mean... it's John, y'all. Enjoy!_

_“ – deep down you know that your sin is a sickness, a **cancer** that must be excised. You… are… **sick**. And Eden’s Gate holds the cure. And the cure is not kind, and it is not pleasant, but it is **necessary**. And yet, like spoiled children, you scream and rail and fight against the ones who only wish to **help** you, to deliver you from –”_

“I would pay actual money for that man to shut up.”

There was a mumbled chorus of affirmative noises from around the abandoned prepper bunker they’d settled down for the night in, the makeshift dinner of heavily charred venison and stale trail mix slowly disappearing as the group suffered through yet _another_ one of John’s… whatever the hell he thought his little radio jam sessions were.

“I mean…” Nick gestured towards the radio with his can of possibly expired soda, face a picture of incredulity as he raised his voice over John Seed’s continued rambling, “ _how_ can anyone love the sound of their own voice _that much_?”

Robin snorted, sawing diligently at her venison. “He’s a lawyer. Pretty sure the cataclysmically large ego comes with the job.”

_“– and the love of The Father is perfect and complete, but to know it one must first **repent** , must open themselves to the light and **confess** , for there will be no place in the paradise beyond Eden’s Gate for the sins of the old world. And it is for that reason that The Father has sent me to you, to cut away the filth from your soul and leave you **pure** and **clean** and **reborn** , to deliver you from –”_

“You guys ever wonder if he jacks off while he’s doin' these?”

The group spat out a variety of horrified sounds, Nick started choking on his drink, and Robin froze with a bite of charcoal-like meat halfway to her mouth, expression going completely blank. “No. Sharky.” The Deputy finally drawled, deliberately putting the charcoal-laden spork back down on her plate and pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, “I can honestly say that thought has never crossed my mind.” She looked at him from over her hand, one eye twitching minutely. “And fuck you very much for _puttin’_ it there.”

“No, I’m just sayin'…” The group’s resident pyromaniac held up his hands, gesturing emphatically with his own hybrid utensil, “He seems like the type who’d get off on his own voice. Just, you know,” he made a vague gesture in the vicinity of his fly, drawing a new chorus of horrified noises from Nick and Jess, “gets it out, starts talkin' about whatever – probably about how he’s the shit or some garbage about atonement – then picks up steam as he gets closer, then when he finally ready to -”

Jess snarled, grabbing an unopened can of something or other and chucking it at Sharky’s head. “Stop making me think about John Seed’s o-face while I’m eating, asshole!”

“Yeah, alright,” Robin let her face fall completely into her hands for a moment. “We are putting _‘John Seed’s o-face’_ on this list of things we are _**never**_ saying again, _right now_. And _**you**_ …” she snapped back up, jabbing a finger in Sharky’s direction and cutting him off, “ _stop_ talkin’ about the masturbatory habits of psychotic cult leaders! _Seriously_ ,” she hissed, picking the spork back up and trying to find her already lackluster appetite again, “I should _not_ have to tell you that.”

There was a moment of extremely awkward silence in the appropriated bunker.

_“And I will grant you that release.”_

The bunker exploded.

_“You sick mother **fucker!”**_

“Why did he have to _phrase_ it like that?!"

“Damn it, Sharky!” Nick’s face was _green_ , the obvious nausea keeping him from joining the others in throwing things at the instigator of hell. “Now I can’t stop thinking about it! I’m _never_ going to be able to hear one of those without thinking about him – _**ugh!**_ Ugh, it’s in my head,” the pilot gagged, “it’s in my head.”

Alone amidst the pandemonium, Robin sat quietly, head tilted slightly to the side, listening to the words that poured ceaselessly from the radio with slightly narrowed eyes.

_“– and to the one out there that the lost and blind call a hero, to the sinner they call The Rook…”_

The bunker went instantly silent, the others whipping their heads around to stare at the radio.

_“To that lost… wretched… **filthy** child… know that your atonement shall be the greatest of all. For not only is your soul weighed down by your own sins, but you also carry the sins of **all** those that your wicked actions have led astray. There will be a reckoning for you, Deputy…”_ John’s voice dropped into a low, hungry purr as he drawled out the title, _“and I will take great… **satisfaction** in delivering it. In prizing out your sins and dragging you to **redemption**. I… will… **save** your undeserving soul, Deputy. Soon.”_

There was a little _-click-_ over the radio as the spiel finally ended. For a second everyone was silent, varying degrees of fear and anger and disgust playing over their faces.

Then, with a soft hum and little shrug, Robin grabbed the radio. “Oh Johnny,” she sighed into it, giving no outward indication that she saw _everyone_ with her leap to their feet and start towards her in horror, aside from a dismissive little wave of her free hand. “You just say the _sweetest_ things to a girl.”

There was another second of silence.

Then, just as Robin was starting to wonder whether it’d just been a pre-recorded broadcast and everyone else started to relax, there was a burst of static.

_“Well, Deputy…”_ John’s voice hadn’t lost its hungry purr – hell, if anything he had taken it up a few notches – and Robin had to wave down the pandemonium around her. _“This **is** a surprise.”_

“Yeah, well…” She lobbed a chunk of venison at Grace, standing up and circling away from her and the others, waving them off more fervently as she hummed into the radio, “I know I don’t normally respond when you call me up, but… I don’t know. I guess there was just somethin’ about this one… I just sort of felt like I had to this time.” Everyone froze, staring at her like she’d _completely_ lost her mind as she gave a lilting, nervous giggle. “I don’t know if that even makes any sense.”

_“You are turning towards the light.”_ John’s voice had gone… breathless. Awestruck. Then, with a low, shuddering breath, the hunger came back twice as strong, lifted up by the sheer force of John Seed’s persuasive charisma. _“Your soul **yearns** for redemption. For **salvation**. For freedom from your sins and your pain, for the **love** that we have to offer. And at last…”_ his sigh was nearly euphoric, and the others twitched away from Sharky with expressions of pure disgust, _“you’re beginning to **realize** it.”_

“That’s not…” Robin let her voice lilt high, let the words shudder a little, and trailed off into a shaky little gasp.

_“You’re so **lost** … so **afraid** … so **conflicted** ”_ There was so much compassion in his voice, so much _empathy_ , it almost drowned out the raw, ravenous hunger. _“I can help you, Deputy. I can **save** you. I can give you what you **need**.”_ Robin could see how John’d gained such a reputation as a lawyer, if this was what his arguments sounded like when he got _serious_ about it. _“All you have to do… is come to me. Confess. Say… **yes**.”_

Robin let the silence hang in the air for one, two, three seconds. Then she clicked the radio and breathed, “Alright.”

The radio was completely silent.

Then – after enough time to become awkward – John’s voice came back, all the earlier emotion stripped away by pure shock and confusion. _“What?”_

The others in the bunker looked about how John sounded, and she had to bite down hard on her lip for a moment. “I said alright. I’ll come confess.”

The Baptist was silent for a few seconds longer. Then, when he spoke again, it was in a low growl. _“Deputy… if you think that **mockery** will go without consequences…”_ He trailed off, a dark promise lingering in the air.

“I’m not mockin’ you, John. I’m serious.” In contrast to his, her voice was soft and gentle as a baby fawn. And, roughly at that point, everyone stopped looking like they were going to jump Robin and lock her away to save her from herself, and started looking at her like they had the time she’d hopped onto the roof of a truck and started turning in slow circles while holding both middle fingers aloft in response to Faith Blessing her over the radio – a mix of profound disbelief, sheer horror, and weary resignation. Robin smiled sweetly at them. “If what you’re sayin' is really true…” she let her voice tremble again, “I’ll come to you for confession.” She waited a second, shuddered a breath into the radio, and tentatively murmured, “You just have to answer one question for me first.”

_“I’ll **bet** I do.”_ The genuine disbelief in his voice was so thick she could almost physically feel it, and wasn’t Mr. John Seed a cynical boy. How utterly tragic.

“Are you turnin' me away, John?” _She_ was almost surprised by how vulnerable her voice sounded, and half the group started looking concerned again. “Is it because… because of what I’ve done? I… I know I’ve committed a _lot_ of sins. And not just recently. I have…” she gave a breathy little sigh, letting the barest hint of a low purr into her voice, “ _so much_ to atone for. You could probably spend _weeks_ cuttin’ all the sin out of me.”

Most of the group now looked incredibly disturbed. Grace dropped down into her seat, propped her elbows on a table, and buried her face in her hands. Sharky, looking extremely confused, shot her the universal gesture for ‘are you trying to jack your archnemesis off over the radio?’ In response, Robin smiled sweetly and flipped him off.

“Have I fallen too far, John?” She whimpered, letting her voice catch. “Am I beyond savin'? I just… I just need one question answered, and then….” She _actually_ worked up a tear, whispering small and scared like a lost child. “Will you help me, John?”

Perfect stillness reigned again.

Then, at last, sounding raw and hungry and _desperate_ , _“ **Yes.** ”_

Robin closed her eyes, lips quirking up gently. “Thank you, John. So tell me…” she kept her voice demure, vulnerable, “when you get yourself off, do you do it staring in a mirror and listenin’ to yourself talk, or do you shut your eyes real tight and pretend it’s old Papa Joe rawin’ you? Because,” her lips started twitching into something less gentle as a chorus of strangled gasps and squeaks flittered through the bunker, “I mean, I could really see it going either way and the not knowin’s just drivin’ me up a _wall_.”

Everyone but Grace – face still buried in her hands, trembling slightly – was staring at her, slack-jawed.

“Hello?” She let _just_ a touch of casual flippancy enter her voice. “Are you there, John? It’s me, Robin.”

Nick made a high, choked off, desperate sound. Sharky clapped a hand over his mouth.

There was a low, shuddery sound on the radio. _“I… am going… to **tear** you to pieces. I will **flay** every **inch** of skin from your body, **open** you to the eyes of judgment, and **cut** and **burn** every… last… sin from your blackened **heart**.”_ John _snarled_ into the radio, the sound practically _feral_ in its strangled rage. Robin may have shivered a little. _“I will make you **scream** , and **beg** , and **repent** for **years** before I grant you release. You will **not** escape atonement, **Deputy**. And I will **not** forget this moment.”_

“Oh now, careful Johnny,” she let more of her usual drawl undercut the veneer of demure concern, spinning a lock of hair around her fingers as she simpered, “that’s soundin’ very close to wrath. Or possibly lust." She hummed a little, pondered that for a moment, then hummed again and shrugged. "Either way, I _do_ believe that is a sin. Also,” she heaved a little sigh of transparently false regret, glancing up at her gaping companions with a shrug of feigned resignation, “that was not an answer so... tch, I guess I won’t be comin’ in for confession today.”

The breath before her next words was interrupted as Grace – shaking violently – threw back her head and _barked_ out a single laugh.

And with that, madness reigned.

“Oh well,” Robin had to pitch her voice up, barely making herself heard over the hysterical laughter that echoed through the bunker, “guess I’ll just have to go blow up more of your ugly ass cult shit. Bye now, Johnny!” And with that last, gleeful chirp, Robin flicked off the radio and turned her attention back to the others.

Grace was sprawled in her seat now, head thrown back and one arm covering her eyes as silent laughter racked her. Jess and Hurk were actually propping each other up, albeit poorly, tears streaming down their faces. Adelaide was jumping up and down like a schoolgirl, clapping her hands together as she cackled and cheered. Sharky _sprinted_ across the bunker, sweeping her into his arms and spinning her in circles, feet off the ground as he crowed “Oh! Oh, you beautiful, beautiful _lunatic!_ Oh that was amazing! I can’t believe you _did_ that, I _love_ you!” And Nick...

“Nick?” Fighting down her own giggles, Robin peered down at the pilot from over Sharky’s shoulder, “Nick are you dyin’ down there?” Curled up on the ground, making the most painful sounds as he fought desperately for breath, Nick did indeed sound a little like he might be dying. “Don’t die, Nick,” she tried to make herself sound serious, and only succeeded in making everything worse, “we need you to fly planes.”

In the end, it took nearly twenty minutes for them to start calming down – the process made all the harder by the various people (Dutch, Mary May and Pastor Jerome, and Kim chief amongst them) who kept calling in with hysterical congratulations, hysterical expressions of awed disbelief, and hysterical glee poorly disguised as admonishment and concern. The only real surprise in the influx was that no one mentioned John _immediately_ setting a capture party on them.

At last, though, they did calm down.

Somewhat.

Cheek resting on the table’s surface, minute tremors still shook Grace, who blinked up at Robin with a tear-streaked face. “He’s going to _kill_ you.”

“Well, I mean,” The Deputy grinned back from her spot on the ground, the still whimpering Nick’s head in her lap and Sharky’s arms still around her, “he was already going to _try_ so… what the hell, right?” The others heaved low sounds of intensely painful mirth and, breathing heavily and eyes falling shut, Robin let her head loll bonelessly against her friend’s shoulder. Then her eyes flew open again, blazing with malevolent inspiration. “Say…” her lips curled upwards, teeth flashing and expression dripping with pure _sin_ , “how pissed do you think John’d be if we blew up that _stupid_ Yes sign?”

**Author's Note:**

>  _Well that escalated. XD_
> 
> _Seriously y'all, I had so much fun writing this. And I am deffinitely thinking about making this a ongoing thing, adding the occasional chapter when inspiration strikes. Because... yeah, sassing John during and after his little radio spiels was one of my favorite parts of Far Cry 5, and imagining what some of his responses would be... Yes. This thought pleases me._
> 
> _Hope y'all enjoyed this one, and I'll see you next time! \^x^_


End file.
